Zaaaaaap! about Kolya Vasiliev
by Amujr
Summary: My wittle story all about my tasty little Hogwarts student with the scrumpsous Russian Accent. Enjoy, or whatever.
1. The Cupboard

**Lessee. The Harry Potter universe belongs to J. K. Rowling. Pretty much every character in this story is, however, orignal characters created by myself or by my friends. All Rights are Reserved to all of us, etc, etc, I hate writing these.**

**Oh, and Kolya is damned fine. ;)**

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_Dearest Nicolai,_

_I am so glad that you are faring well in England. I know that Pavil is not going to treat you as you deserve--why he chose to live with your father over your uncle I will never know. But please remember that whatever happens, I will be here for you, for your father, and for your mother. Remember that your soul is always with you, and I will always be with your soul, Nicolai. I am sorry that I must leave so quickly, but a Judge is never finished in her work. I love you._

_Baba._

At only eight years old, Nicolai Vasiliev was already as tall as his paternal grandfather, and taller than his mother and her parents. Nicolya Kresnyov-Vasiliev, his grandmother, still towered over him, like his father, but that wasn't a problem. "I love you too, Baba," he whispered to the parchment in his hands, hoping to use an owl as soon as his mother arrived, in the morning. At least Grandfather had been too full of drink to bother with the boy, leaving him blessedly alone and able to sleep in his bed, for the first time in three days.

The feel of snakeskin still haunted him, even after two baths.

He looked at the words again, neatly written in Russian, the woman's script easy to read and very beautiful in his eyes. "My soul," he muttered to himself before grabbing a little plush cat. "Vell, if I cannot see my soul, then I'll pretend that you are it." He squeezes the plush to his chest and sighs. "I can tell you anyzhing, if you are my soul. Even vhat I don't vant to tell Baba." He looks at the paper again. "I hate Grandfazher. He is a horrible person." He quickly hid the letter under one of his pillows when he felt tears begin to fill his eyes. "Soul, I vish zhat he vould die and take zhat snake vizh him."

Clutching the cat, he pulled his covers up and rolled onto his side, gazing out of the window as he drifted to sleep, crying until darkness overcame him.

"Good morning, Nicolai. Your mozher sends her regrets, but she vas delayed. She says zhat she vill be home as soon as possible."

Pausing at the doorway, the eight year old stopped, the look of surprise on his face fading almost instantly into fear and something close to tears. The old man grins and thumps the table. "Vhat is the matter, dear boy? Zhough a sniveling, pazhetic halfblood like you can hardly be called a boy. You vill certainly never be a man." As his grandfather stood, Nicolai felt something inside of him quiver, as if he was on the edge of falling apart inside.

"Vhere is fazher?"

"Avay on business, as alvays. Now, Nicolai, it seems ve haff an entire day togzher."

"Kolya."

"Vhat?"

"Call me Kolya, Grandfazher." Clutching the door frame in a hand, the boy forces himself to stand straighter and tries to meet his grandfather's eye. The letter from his grandmother that lay under his pillow had filled him with a sudden surge of defiance, anger. He was named for his grandmother--Nicolai from Nicolya--but she had always preferred 'Kolya.' The shock on the wrinkled face set the name in the boy's mind. It was his new, powerful talisman. "I zhink zhat I like zhe name."

"Bastard boy," the old man snarled, his wand appearing in bony fingers and flicking maliciously. Suddenly unable to move at all, the newly-christened Kolya realized that only his suddenly immobile grip kept him from tumbling to the ground. The man had cursed him. Tears of hot fear fill his eyes--he knew then where he was going to go. The cupboard. The talisman had failed him as quickly as it arrived.

"You horrible, tvisted, pazhetic halfblood. How...how _dare_ you mention her here. To me!" Spit flew with each word as the wand waved again, and Kolya jerked away from the door and hovered in the air silently, weeping softly. "For zhat, I zhink, zhree hours vizh my snake. Anozher two to teach you to respect tradition, as vell." Floating along, Kolya tried to whimper, scream, anything, but he can't--that wouldn't happen until he was settled safely in the cupboard with that horrible snake. "Pazhetic."

As soon as his arms could move, he was in the dark, scales brushing against his leg while he pounded his fists against the door, screaming until his voice failed him. The snake, though well fed, was still a danger, he knew--something evil that would willingly strangle him just for the delight grandfather would find in the action. Pushing the snake back into the corner, as far from him as possible, Kolya curled up and wrapped his arms around his knees. "Soul, if I pretend zhat you are here, vizh me, you vouldn't hate me, vould you?"

His quiet voice, filled with his tears and fear and a touch of anger, received no reply, but he suddenly felt a little better--maybe it wasn't _that_ dark, after all. "Zhank you," he whispers, burying his face in his knees.


	2. The Faded Hat

**_Right, then. Bit of a jump timewise, just so you know, but from her on out, that shouldn't happen much more at all. Rights reserved etc. Still all my own charas, actually, next couple of chapters should introduce a few of his friends created by my friends. w00t and such._**

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The ten year old tuned out his parents as they continued their half-argument, begun before they had even left York.

"I do not know vhy you insisted upon muggle transportation, Tessa."

"I happen to like flying, and you know it."

"Hours of vasted time, zhat is all it vas."

"Hush, now, Peter. We're here, and we shouldn't be arguing at a time like this."

"Of course." His father's voice grew melancholy. "Mozher vould not haff liked zhat, vould she?"

Kolya's eyes, as they began to roll at his parents, stopped when they finally saw the twin towers rising up from the Kresnyov Estate. Black covered the usually rosy stone, from the top of the bulbous domes to the tree line that hid the rest of the building, and the grounds, from sight as they topped the low hill. He pulled the plush cat to his side, one hand holding it tightly. They said Baba wasn't gone, but only dead. Still, she'd have never let them cover the towers like that, not ever or for anything. She loved the colour of the stone.

"Fazher, vhy did zhey cover zhe towers? Baba vould never haff let zhem do zhat! Vhy didn't she say anyzhing?"

The two adults shared a look, and his mother held up her hands. "Your family, and your magic. I don't really understand it all, myself."

"Fine. Vell, Nicolai, vhen she died, her vill vas zhat you got everyzhing she owned. Including the vorkers and elves of zhe estate. She cannot tell zhem to do anyzhing at all." He offered a smile. "And Greza, the oldest elf, alvays did haff a flair for doing zhings grandly."

Lifting the cat into his lap, the boy falls silent, not saying anything. Baba could do anything she put her mind to, Father always said so. Why would that change now? "Fazher, she sent me a letter after she died. How could she do zhat if she can't tell zhem to do anyzhing?"

"I suppose she asked. Or maybe had it in her vill that zhey still have to take dictation. I vouldn't put it past her."

"Dictation?"

"She speaks and zhey write vhat she says."

"Oh." He looks down at the plush, pressing it against his stomach in a little hug. "Vill she still...vell...look like she alvays did?" The night before, his dreams had left her a skeleton and a horrible monster, both chasing him away from Tagil, shouting 'Halfblood, halfblood!'

"Pretty much, except you vill be able to see through her and she...vell, she vill most likely be floating, not standing on zhe ground. But she vill still look just like Baba." He sets a hand on his son's shoulder and gives a squeeze. "And she still loves you, too. I zhink she alvays vill."

They finished the trip in silence, Kolya struggling to stop tears, telling himself that his father was a great wizard and would know all about ghosts. And almost believing it.

The car--specially issued for them by the local governor--pulled into the lane and up to the great oaken doors that fronted the magnificent building. As they began to climb out of the car, a door opened and several elves, two wizards, and a pale ghost, almost invisible in the sunlight, came out to meet them. Father smiled and waved a hello to the ancient, wrinkled elf, Greza.

"Hello. Greza, how wonderful to see you," he called in Russian. A somewhat thin voice, almost like an echo, spoke first, in very good English.

"Tessa, darling, so good to see you again. For a bit, I vas vorried zhat it vouldn't happen. Peter, zhank you for coming so quickly. And Nicolai, von't you give me a smile?" The pale ghost stopped before the boy, who squinted up.

"Baba? I can barely see you!" He rubbed his cheek, surprised at the wetness on his hand. "Why can't I see you? Father said I should be able to!" His second sentence, in Russian, was hurried and not even close to the level of his father. Usually, only Grandfather spoke Russian at home.

"Do not fret, child. Inside you vill see me just fine. It is only a touch bright today." She spreads her hands, looking at the servants, then huffs. "Oh, right. Nicolai, vould you ask zhem to get your zhings? And to take down zhat nonsense. I vant my home back, not some dark castle."

Looking to Greza, he swallows. "Er, vould you please...do vant Baba said, for now? If it isn't trouble, of course," he adds. The elf frowns, then looks at the others.

"Master, Greza not know anything but Russian."

"Sorry, Greza. I forgot. Please get our things inside." She smiled and jumped to it with the other elves as Grandmother held up her arms.

"Come," she said, still speaking English in consideration of his mother. "Ve vill go in and you may sup. Surely you must be famished."

That evening, Kolya sat alone beside his bed, a damp handkerchief in her hand. "Baba isn't the same at all," he said, looking at the plush. "She even sounds different. I vant her back like she vas. I don't vant zhis," he said, waving around the room. "And I don't vant to have a ghost for my grandmozher."

"Nicolai?" The call came from his door, and he looked up. She hovered halfway through the door, looking at him. "May I come in? I vould like to talk to you."

Hugging the cat close, he nods, trying to blink his tears away. "I...please, Baba. I vould love to talk to you." His lip trembled, but he managed to, for the most part, keep himself calm. "Vhat do you vant?"

"I vanted to check on you. You vhere very quiet at zhe table."

"I didn't feel like talking."

"You know, zhere is a much nicer set of rooms for you. Zhey are yours, now."

"I have alvays had zhis room. Zhis is my room." He rubbed his eyes and looked down at the form in his lap. "Vhy did you have to change like zhis? Couldn't you have just stayed the same vay forever?"

She knelt before him, so that she could find his eyes. "No. Everyvon changes, Nicolai. That is life." Her faint hand passes near his cheek. "I am sorry it had to happen so soon, child."

"Am I going to change, too?"

"Of course, all zhe time. But zhat is just fine." He looks away from her, still not wanting to see what she had become. "Nicolai, you are growing up. You haff alvays had your mozher's eyes, and my hair. Now, you are starting to get Pavil's nose, and chin." She laughs. "And you know, I avays did zhink he vas very handsome. But not as handsome as you."

He shook his head. "I do not vant to look like him at all." Pulling back from her, he takes an uneasy breath. "He is a horrible man. I hate him, Baba. I vizh zhat he vould die. But you did, instead." He rubbed his eyes again, holding the cat to his chest tightly. "You said you vould alvays be vizh my soul, vizh me. But you died."

"I stayed because I love you, Nicolai. Not everyvon becomes a ghost, you know. But I vould never leave you alone. I never vill."

Her funeral, the next day, was very well attended, and his grandmother and parents were assured that he had a place at the most prestigious wizarding school in The Ukraine, the same school the Kresnyovs had been going to for over four hundred years. The governor said some very nice things and even Greza was allowed to give a moving, is almost unintelligble, good-bye.

Before the ceremony, he had stumbled into a group of the serving girls doing themselves up with all kinds of makeup, chatting happily and giggling at him when he appeared. He made the mistake of pointing to blush and asking what it was for. Only too happily, the girls showed him, and his mother thought for a moment, after he managed to escape and run down a back staircase to the kitchens, that he had a slight fever.

"Just been running, Mozher," he said, stealing a glance at himself in a bright pot hanging on the wall. He had to stop a gasp, for the blush seemed, to him, to soften the hard looks that he knew as his Grandfather. He decided not to wash the stuff off, and instead wore it and black robes out to the cherry orchard, much to the giggling girls's delight.

Kolya spent the rest of the day avoiding everyone, needing time to be alone. It was almost dark when he found himself outside of his Grandmother's chambers...his chambers. The rooms, Greza had informed him, had been prepared for him as soon as she knew he was coming, and she had been crushed when he asked only for his old room. He slipped through the doors and looked around, seeing Baba's things all over the room still.

He took her faded blue hat, two feet tall, though the last two inches bent forward a little bit along an old crease. He set it on his head and looked into a mirror, smiling a little. Setting the kitty by the mirror, he walked around the room, and stopped at seeing her wand. He lifted it carefully and looked at it, such a little thing, really, so thin...but she had been the most respected judge in the Urals, possibly the most respected witch, as well. He set it down again, remembering that it was his now.

"Vhy don't you take zhe hat, to remember me? Zhat vay, I vill alvays be vizh you." He jumped, and spun, snatching the hat from his head until he saw her over the bed, watching him with a sad smile. "I promise zhat I von't let anyzhing happen to you. Before you leave, ask me, in front of Greza, to keep an eye on the estate until you are done vizh school. Zhat vay, you know zhat it vill be vatched properly."

"Baba," he said, crushing the hat to his chest. "I don't have anyzhing for you." He looks around and spots the plush. Running to the mirror, he picks it up and turns. "Vell...Baba, I vant you to keep zhis. I...I don't really need her. I can imagine, like I do vhen I can't reach her. Zhen, I know you really are vizh my soul." Clutching the hat, he wipes a tear from his eye. "I love you, Baba."

"Nicolai, I love you too."


	3. Belladona

**Right, then. I Made Kolya a bit more like...I dunno, someone else, in this one. P Don't be hating, but...yeah. I know he isn't the nicest little boy in this one.**

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"It is only for a couple of days. You know what my brother is like, Nic." Tessa reached out to fluff her son's straight hair and smiled. "We'll be back Friday. Pavil will take good care of you, I promise. I love you, kiddo!" Taking the hand offered by her husband, she hurried down the steps, pulling the door closed behind her. Crossing his arms, Kolya turned away from the door and kicked at a worn spot of rug.

"I do not know vhy zhey haff to leave me vizh him. I vant to see Uncle Jared, too." He kicks the rug again before looking around and sneaking to the stairs. "Vhere is he," he whispers, glancing at his feet. "Do you see him, Kryillian?" After a second, he heaves an enormous sigh. He starts up the stairs, listening for the footfalls that meant something horrible waited just around the corner. He made it into his room, though, without a hint of the old man.

Closing his door, he ran over and jumped onto his bed, reaching under his pillow. The letter in his hands had arrived almost on their heels of their return to Yorkshire, and he had read it at least eighty times. _Hogwarts._ The name itself sent a shiver of excitement through him. His grandmother, of course, still wanted him to go to Ukraine--after all, it was only a short trip from Odessa to Tagil, compared to Scotland, but still...

"Vhat do you think," he asked the empty air, not fur the first time. "Vell, Kryillian, surely you must haff some idea of vhat you vant me to do." He sighs and sits up on the bed, looking at the blue hat on his bedpost. "It vould take me farzher from Baba," he says after a moment, "but maybe I can actually meet people from around here. Make friends in Britain." He runs his fingers through his hair, hanging past his eats as his parents had been to busy to cut it for him, and after the past time, Grandfather was forbidden. Of course, everyone thought that it had been an accident. But the two of them knew better.

The creak of a floorboard, the one at the top of the stairs, made him jump and stuff the letter back under the pillow. Sliding from the bed, he turned to run for his balcony, from which he knew how to escape, for a time, from the old man's ravings. Truth be told, while he always feared the old man, he never really thought that anything horrible would happen, until after Tagil. Pavil's last hope had been his family nabbing the estate, and he had long made it clear that Kolya was not considered to be such.

"Boy!" He paused--for a moment, he hoped that his door would look dark, and the man would leave--a pause far too long. The door opened with a crash, and Grandfather stumbled in, a glass in one hand and a wand in the other. Immediately, Kolya knew he had been drinking, hard, and was very afraid of the waggled wand. "Zhink...zhink you are clever, boy?" The drink swirled once. Now in Russian, the man continued. "A halfblood like you should never have received such a valued estate. That woman was mad, and you are...you are worse! At least she had a respectable family line. _You_ only have muggles."

Kolya risked a step backwards, but the wand snapped out immediately, a lancing pain crumpling the boy in tears, as though everything was burning, and then...it was over. "Vhat haff you made me do? To the cupboard." Unfrozen, he wafted into the air, clutching at his tee-shirt in fear. "For...for as long as I like."

The slam of the door echoed harshly, the reverberations hurting his ears. The snake, too, seemed upset, but, for once, avoided him. After a moment of waiting, he realized that the door had never clicked with a lock, no jingle of keys indicating that he was, actually trapped. Frantic, he lunged against the door, which opened easily and spilled Kolya across the floor. Panicked, he looked up--and the man was gone. He spun and slammed the door shut, keeping the snake in there. Rubbing his face, he turned and ran for the kitchen, the closest way out of the building.

As he opened the door, looking behind him, Grandfather's voice from the room he was walking into sent a hard shiver down his back. "You, elf, go and find me some vine. Good stuff, not some cheap nonsense." Kolya realized after a moment that the nobby finger was aimed at his chest.

"Ye-yes sir," he stammered, running for the door to the cellar. Thumping down the stairs, he caught sight of his father's cabinet, standing beside the wine rack. Grabbing a bottle--he didn't know which one the old man wanted, but he was drunk enough he wouldn't notice. He looked at the cabinet again, wishing that his father was there to help him. Light from the door caught a bottle on the shelf, a little one, and the boy paused. Something about it reminded him of...of something. His mother, and a warning.

Shaking it off, he ran up the stairs, clutching the bottle to his chest. "Grandfazher, I haff your vine," he said, holding out the bottle. "I got it for you as quick as I could."

The weary eyes peered at him for a moment. "Zhank you, boy, but shouldn't you be in a cupboard." For a second, it seemed as though Kolya would be let off, but with a sudden flourish, the wand pointed at his midsection again. "Crucio!"

Screaming, the boy fell to the floor, limbs twitching. Somewhere, he knew the spell was already over, and that he was moving across the floor--drunk, it seemed the old man simply chose to drag him instead of using magic--but none of that really mattered. The memory of pain filled him almost completely, froze him, left him unable to do more than cry and scream. Dimly, he realized that he was being thrown into the cupboard, but it still didn't make an impact on him. Blessedly, he finally passed out.

He woke up off and on, each time growing hungrier, thirstier, more desperate and weaker. The snake, too, seemed to be loosing any fear it had ever had of him, brushing closer and closer to him as he moved.

Then came a time when he woke to coils holding his legs tightly. He had no idea how long it had been--that Tuesday night seemed to be someone else's time, as though he had been watching his Uncle's television. He tried screaming, but his voice had long since failed him. The movement caused a sudden tightening around him, his knees crushing together. He turned enough to touch the door, knock, pound on it. He could feel a coil wrapping around his stomach and he managed to find enough voice to moan, reaching down to push on the snake. He knew, though, that he was alone, and that he was going to die.

Tears streaming down him face, more water he desperately needed draining from him, he turned again to claw at the wooden door, beseeching help from anyone, anything. Muffled calls and silence, met his efforts after a few minutes, during which time two more coils took him, one around his chest. The snake began to tighten again, and Kolya heard a rib pop after only a moment. Weeping at the implacable wood, he tried to pound again, his fingers almost too sore to bend after clawing for so long. Another shout, more urgent, then he heard his name, faintly, as though from another world.

He tried to call out, to tell the voice where he was, but could not do it. He had no breath, none. A rattle sounded at the door as he fell to the ground, an arm now caught by the serpent, breath almost spent. A muffled cry, and a click, lead to the opening of the door and sudden removal of the serpent, which struck the wall with a sickening crunch.

"Nicolai? Oh, God, my Nicolai!" Arms pulled him from the cupboard, while two voice now spoke together, jumbled, confusing. His mother's face hovered over his own, and he knew he was safe.

His grandfather, however, seemed to be much worse. The old man had passed out that night, and never woke up. He still had breath, but not much of it. For three days, Kolya was locked in his room, to make sure he got plenty of rest and food, despite his father's more than proficient skills with healing. On the fourth day, he was asked to grab a couple of things for a potion his father was making for the dying man.

Pulling them down from the shelves of the cabinet, he remember suddenly about the other bottle--Essence of Belladona.

_"Nicolai, never touch zhis bottle. It can kill you."_

_"Vhat is it fazher."_

_"Belladona. Yes, ve haff some, and you cannot go into zhat greenhouse, as you very vell know. But this bottle can kill, if used wrong."_

_"Yes, fazher."_

Stuffing it into his pocket, he gathered the other things and ran upstairs. His parents were waiting for the old man to wake up, to hear his story, before they said they believed he had locked their son in there. Maybe Nicolai had, after all, simply been playing and the door accidentally locked. Or something similar. But Kolya couldn't face living with him any more. The snake...and the darkness, not to mention the lack of food and water, had been too much.

When the potion was done, he offered to deliver it. "I need to stop acting like a child," he said to the unasked question of why. "I can't run from him forever, however much I don't like him." As soon as he was into the room, with the door closed, he pulled out the bottle and looked at it. For a second, seeing Pavil laying in his bed, helpless, Kolya thought of putting the bottle into his pocket again. Instead, remembering the cupboard--two and a half years of the cupboard--he flipped open the stopper and turned the bottle over.

"Grandfazher," he whispered, moving over to stand by the bed. "I haff your potion from fazher..."


End file.
